Over their heads the mighty thunders brake, Leaping and tumbling down from rock to rock, Then burst anew and made the cliffs to quake As they were living things and felt the shock; The waiting sea to sob as if in pain, And all the midnight vault to ring again. A lamp was burning in the mariner's cave, But the blue lightning flashes made it dim; And when the mother heard those thunders rave, She took her little child to cherish him; She took him in her arms, and on her breast Full wearily she courted him to rest, And soothed him long until the storm was spent, And the last thunder peal had died away, And stars were out in all the firmament. Then did he cease to moan, and slumbering lay, While in the welcome silence, pure and deep, The care-worn parents sweetly fell asleep. And in a dream, enwrought with fancies thick, The mother thought she heard the rock-doves coo (She had forgotten that her child was sick), And she went forth their morning meal to strew; Then over all the cliff with earnest care She sought her child, and lo, he was not there! But she was not afraid, though long she sought And climbed the cliff, and set her feet in grass, Then reached a river, broad and full, she thought, And at its brink he sat. Alas! alas! For one stood near him, fair and undefiled, An innocent, a marvellous man-child. In garments white as wool, and O, most fair, A rainbow covered him with mystic light; Upon the warmèd grass his feet were bare, And as he breathed, the rainbow in her sight In passions of clear crimson trembling lay, With gold and violet mist made fair the day. Her little life! she thought, his little hands Were full of flowers that he did play withal; But when he saw the boy o' the golden lands, And looked him in the face, he let them fall, Held through a rapturous pause in wistful wise To the sweet strangeness of those keen child-eyes. "Ah, dear and awful God, who chastenest me, How shall my soul to this be reconciled! It is the Saviour of the world," quoth she, "And to my child He cometh as a child." Then on her knees she fell by that vast stream-- Oh, it was sorrowful, this woman's dream! For lo, that Elder Child drew nearer now, Fair as the light, and purer than the sun. The calms of heaven were brooding on his brow, And in his arms He took her little one, Her child, that knew her, but with sweet demur Drew back, nor held his hands to come to her. With that in mother misery sore she wept-- "O Lamb of God, I love my child so MUCH! He stole away to Thee while we two slept, But give him back, for Thou hast many such; And as for me I have but one. O deign, Dear Pity of God, to give him me again." His feet were on the river. Oh, his feet Had touched the river now, and it was great; And yet He hearkened when she did entreat, And turned in quietness as He would wait-- Wait till she looked upon Him, and behold, There lay a long way off a city of gold.